Hitler's Rescue
by CyanKitten1
Summary: I do not have a life.
1. Chapter 1

"Stalin has already tried to take over the world," Günsche informed everyone as the squad stood outside of the bunker, their hair ruffling in the wind and their eyes focused on a plane in front of them. "We must stop him."

"And we will," Hitler snapped, stopping at the edge of the bunker's door. The artillery strikes snapped by Stalin's rabid followers were growing increasingly close to the bunker. Thankfully, the bunker was too well protected to be hurt, but that didn't mean Hitler or his entourage couldn't be harmed.

Hitler drew in a gasp of shock, seeing ashes and cinders spewing violently as an artillery bullet fired towards them. Krebs stared up in horror before pushing Burgdorf to safety and shielding him. Hitler gestured at Jodl, who grabbed Günsche, the youngest member of the group and one of the strongest, and shoved him closer to the circle. Goebbels ducked behind Jodl, while Fegelein only crossed his arms and watched the bullet. The entire bunker group tightened together, watching the bullet. The artillery bullet missed them, but only by a whisker.

After a few minutes, as the group remained in a circle, the artillery died down to the point of complete and utter silence. Slowly, the bunker's inhabitants inched across the bunker's field, towards the Luftwaffe in the distance. Krebs was herding Burgdorf with his hands on his broad shoulders carefully, the two staying very close together. Hitler watched them. The two were inseparable, and it was actually pretty gay, but Hitler didn't do anything about it, due to it being true love. Jodl and Fegelein gathered around Günsche, protecting the youngest member of the group - and Hitler's adjutant. Goebbels carefully paced around the group, narrowing his eyes against the battle stained field.

When they reached the Luftwaffe plane, Hitler halted, breathing heavily. "Are we all here?" he demanded. "Retarded minions?"

"I don't know where Skeletor is," Jodl pointed out, glancing around. "He was behind me a few minutes ago."

"Here." Goebbels stepped forward. "I am here, my dear Führer! I was scanning the bunker. No signs of any soldiers."

"Good." Hitler looked up, studying the broken clouds that littered the ash stained sky. "Can any of us fly a plane?"

His minions exchanged uncertain glances, before Fegelein stepped up, his eyes glowing with the prospect of adventure. "I can do it."

Hitler gulped. Fegelein was apart of the bunker, but he was also Hitler's arch enemy, committing constant antics on him. But Fegelein was smart, and Hitler needed him for certain operations. "Fine. Do not crash us."

Fegelein flung the last words over his shoulders as he ran towards the Luftwaffe. "I won't."

Hitler glanced at Jodl. Ash stained his bald head and his Wehrmacht outfit. "Jodl, what the fuck have you done with your shiny bald head?"

"It's not my fault!" Jodl protested.

"Clean it!" Hitler snapped.

Goebbels blinked apologetically at Jodl as Jodl swept his hands over his artillery stained head. Jodl huffed, glaring at Hitler after his head started to shine once more. Hitler turned around, stifling a chortle of laughter.

The engines of the Luftwaffe started to rev. Hitler gestured to his minions, feeling a sense of closeness to them while he planned to save the world. His friendship with his minions was somewhat complicated - he truly valued them and thought of them as his brothers, his family, and he knew that his friendship would them would never falter. But he did yell at them quite often, and show the impression that he hated them as he tossed cruel words and constant rants towards them. He knew his harsh words weren't true, and so did they. "I still hate them," he muttered under his breath as he followed Goebbels into the Luftwaffe. "I do." But a nagging feeling told him that he had a brotherly relationship with them, and that he couldn't truly hate them.

The interior of the Luftwaffe was more cramped than the bunker, but there still was enough space for Hitler and his colleagues. Krebs sat on the left couch, while Burgdorf headed towards the Luftwaffe's table of drinks.

"Dammit, Burgdorf!" Hitler exclaimed. "Can you not go a minute without booze?"

Burgdorf's voice echoed from the table. "No, I can't." He came back towards Krebs with shot glasses and a bottle of booze, pressing next to him. Günsche sat farther off, while Hitler, Jodl, and Goebbels took the other couch.

The plane started to tremble. Hitler dug his fingernails into the couch as he felt the Luftwaffe taking off. The wind roared in his ears as the airplane hovered off the ground, and started to take on more speed as it hurried towards the sky.

As the plane began to stabilize, Hitler rose to his feet. "I'm going to check on Fegelein," he announced.

"Careful," Goebbels warned him. "Fegelein might use that trick on you he did in Japan."

Hitler snorted. "I won't let him suck me into the toilet again, Skeletor."

"You said that last time," Jodl pointed out.

"Shut up." Hitler turned away and headed towards the cockpit, where he spotted Fegelein's broad shoulders outlined against the pilot's seat. His head was bent and focused on the controls, and he didn't raise his head when Hitler walked in.

"How long until we're in America?" Hitler questioned, feeling his heart lurch. _Is … is what I'm about to do right? Is this a huge mistake? Am I really right to interfere with another country's problems?_

Fegelein looked up, furrowing a brow. "If I can pick up the speed to avoid the artillery fire, it could be about an hour," he answered.

 _An hour?_ Hitler gave him a hard stare. "No antics!" he snapped.

The gruppenführer turned away. "For now," he replied smoothly.

As Hitler trekked back towards the center of the Luftwaffe, Krebs looked up from where he was sitting. "How long did he say?" he inquired.

"An hour, fishman," Hitler responded.

Günsche lifted his chin. "Is that it?"

"An hour is fine, stupid giant," Hitler growled. "You'll be fine. You've got tons of stuff to inform us about, no? Jodl objects to everything, so he'll be okay. And the map pervert should be fine. He has Burgdork with him. You all should be okay." He flopped on the couch next to Goebbels, and yawned.

Burgdorf's head was on Krebs' shoulder until he raised it to gaze at Hitler. A look of disappointment spreaded across Krebs' face as Burgdorf got off him. "We need a plan," he suggested. "A plan … to stop Stalin."

"He is currently trying to take over the world," Günsche informed them.

"I know that, you stupid giant," Hitler snapped. He turned to Burgdorf. "Fegelein is taking us to the White House, where he is currently stationed. Fegelein's antics ways will help us. But you are right when you say we need a plan."

"So what is it?" Jodl asked. "Is it terrible - like all your other ones?"

"Don't you dare object to this plan," Hitler snarled at Jodl. He looked around, examining the people around him. Günsche was tall and strong - Hitler would need him. He glanced at Krebs and Burgdorf. They both were broad-shouldered, muscular, and powerful, while Goebbels was skinny and Jodl was somewhat chubby. Fegelein was also powerful - but he couldn't have four people with him at the same time. "We will infiltrate the White House. We will slink in through the bushes and the fences. We will be together. Günsche, Fegelein, and I will be one group. Krebs and Burgdorf will be partners. Skeletor, you and Jodl are a team. The stupid giant, the antics master, and I will head towards the Oval Office. Fegelein and Günsche must protect me as we head there. They are both strong, and will fight any guards that dare interfere with our plan. Krebs and Burgdorf, you will find Stalin's guards, and disable them. Jodl and Skeletor, you will find the center where Stalin controls his planes and weapons, and you will turn off the button that gives it power. Your groups will meet up in the center of the house and free Obama from his prison."

"But what is _your_ plan?" Krebs pressed. "Will my fish be needed for this?"

"Your bloody fish will not be needed," Hitler growled. "I must kill Stalin and put Obama in power."

"I'm in," Krebs told Hitler. The light of battle shone in his eyes. Burgdorf nodded his agreement, and went back to resting his head on Krebs' shoulder.

"And you, my half dead friend?" Hitler turned to Goebbels.

"Of course," Goebbels replied simply.

"So am I," Jodl added. "I have no objections."

"I will be in the plot," Günsche informed Hitler. Hitler glanced around at his bunkermates. He couldn't imagine this operation with anyone else.

Fegelein's shout echoed from the cockpit. "Me too!" _Fegelein!_ He hoped he had the strength to deal with the antics master. He knew he needed him on this journey for it to be successful.

Hitler sighed. It would be a long time until they landed. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the couch and let sleep crash over him.

A loud voice rang through Hitler's ears. "We're landing. Strap yourselves in!" Hitler lifted his head groggily, looking out the window. The sun had already set, and the stars were starting to appear in the dim sky.

"He means it!" Burgdorf yowled, buckling himself in. Hitler buckled his seatbelt, followed by Günsche and Goebbels. The Luftwaffe trembled before it suddenly picked up speed. Hitler's ears popped as the plane streaked towards the States. Hitler glanced out his window, gasping. Sights flew past his eyes. The White House was in view. It was larger than Hitler ever imagined, with sleek, shining white walls and a vast, trimmed garden, dotted with lilacs and daisies. Several guards stood outside of the fences, but Fegelein was doing a good job of avoiding them with the Luftwaffe. The Luftwaffe started to slow down until the ground rumbled underneath them. Fegelein pulled the controls of the cockpit and stopped the plane.

"We're here!" Fegelein shouted. He walked towards the center of the plane, nodding to Hitler, who was still stumped by the ferocity of the landing. "I heard the plan," he said. "I'm in."

"So … we all know what to do?" Hitler inquired, recovering from his initial shock. Nods came from the officers, and Hitler grunted. "Let's go."

Hitler silently took the lead as he slithered out of the Luftwaffe, with Günsche and Fegelein behind him. He worked his way around the fence, noticing several gaps in them. He examined them, trying to look for one that would fit a human. "These must be from bombs," he muttered to himself. Towards the edge of the White House, a large human sized hole gaped in the fence. Hitler squeezed himself through, the rest of his followers behind him.

"Back door," Burgdorf advised in a low voice. Hitler acknowledged his advice with a brisk nod, and slunk slyly through the garden until he reached the back door of the house.

"The security is pretty lanky since bin Laden took control," Goebbels observed.

"Silence," Hitler hissed before jiggling the handle on the back door. "It's open." He turned to face the others. "Do we all know what to do?"

Krebs nodded, exchanging a glance with Burgdorf, whose eyes glimmered as he gazed warmly at the love of his life. Goebbels dipped his head, and Günsche nodded as well. Jodl lifted his head, while Fegelein smirked.

"Let's go." Hitler's voice was curt and brisk, and each group broke up into their separate operations.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, Burgdorf. We'll deal with the guards in the center," Krebs called, nodding to Burgdorf as he trekked after him.

"Good call," Burgdorf agreed. He gazed into Krebs' eyes, and his heart fluttered. He and Krebs had an romantic relationship. They had never fought. The two were closer than normal lovers, and they loved each other with a force they didn't know was possible. Burgdorf couldn't imagine anyone else he would rather have beside him while he charged into danger. He loved Krebs deeply, and Krebs loved him back.

The two generals carefully stalked towards the White House's corridor. Both had guns in their boots as Burgdorf's heart thumped with anxiety. Burgdorf stopped as two guards stood with their backs to them. "Shh," he whispered to Krebs.

"What's the plan?" Krebs asked, his voice a soft murmur.

"I have an idea," Burgdorf told him. _Hopefully it works._ "Follow what I do." Burgdorf quickly looked around before tensing his shoulders. Taking off at full speed, he leaped onto the first guard's back and bowled him to the ground. His scream was cut silent as Burgdorf clamped his hands over his mouth. He watched Krebs repeat the same pattern with the other guard, and felt a glow of pride for his beloved.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he leaped into the fray. There was no need for stealth and secrets. There was only the crisp, clean danger of battle. Burgdorf grunted as the guard overpowered him and flung him across the room. He quickly scrambled to his feet, grasping desperately for his gun, but it had fallen out of his boot, and he couldn't see it. Burgdorf noticed that the other guard was still on the ground, and Burgdorf froze as his attacker held up a pistol. Shaking violently, Burgdorf met the guard's eyes, knowing these were the last moments of his life. Bracing himself for the final shot, Burgdorf shut his eyes. But the shot never came. There was a screech, and Burgdorf opened his eyes. Krebs had wrestled down his attacker and had thrown his gun across the edge of the hallway. Burgdorf charged towards the other guard, who had been getting up. Doing what Krebs had done, he grabbed the guard's gun and flung it across the hallway.

The guard shrieked with pain as Burgdorf sank his teeth into his arm. The rip of skin creaked in Burgdorf's ear, and he could taste blood as the guard wailed.

"What are you doing here?" the guard demanded, using all his strength to yank his arm away. Anger burned in his eyes.

Burgdorf hit the guard's cheek with all the force he could muster, not bothering to reply. He was intent on this fight. He knew Krebs could manage, due to the screaming of the other guard. Burgdorf kicked out his leg, hitting the guard in his chest. The guard let out an audible gasp, and Burgdorf rolled over with him, pinning him to the ground.

Blood burst out of the guard's throat as Burgdorf slit it with his nails. The heat of the crimson liquid made Burgdorf wince as it splattered on his face, but he didn't stop as he hit the guard again, sending him thumping to the ground. Burgdorf staggered to the ground, struggling to regain his balance, but he only had about a second of rest until he was brought to the ground again. His head hit the floor, and his vision blurred. His chest was pinned down by some sort of weight, but he instantly kicked out with his legs, and found the guard tumbling over as he hit him in his stomach.

His chest was heaving, but he had to fight - even though he was much more exhausted than usual. He struck a few blows in the guard's cheek with his fists, but in a matter of seconds, he found the guard grabbing his throat and choking him. Burgdorf struggled to get away as he attempted to breathe. His throat was closed in on, and he couldn't get any air. He shut his eyes, gasping. _Why am I such a bad fighter today? I'm never like this!_

"Do you hear me?" The guard's voice was a whisper in his ear as he pressed harder on Burgdorf's windpipe. "We will kill all of you, one by one. Even your lover can't help you now. You will be _dead,_ because all of your countries will wish they never stepped foot in our business. Do you want another Great Purge? It will happen."

Suddenly, the pressure was released from Burgdorf, and he gulped down oxygen as he heard a shriek of surprise and a snarl in response.

"Get off of him!" It was Krebs' voice. Burgdorf struggled as he attempted to look at Krebs. Krebs and the guard were locked in close, violent combat as Krebs swiped ferocious blows at the guard's face. The guard turned on him, hissing, but Krebs was faster, swerving and swiping at his throat before leaping on him again and snarling.

He could hear the thud of the guard's body, but Burgdorf was not stable enough to stand. His legs shook, and his body crumbled to the floor as he couldn't find strength to get up. He knew that he should've been a better fighter than he was now - he was much, much more powerful than his friends - but exhaustion tugged at his limbs and he couldn't breathe.

"Burgdorf?" A familiar voice that warmed Burgdorf's heart every single time he heard it loomed over him. "Burgdorf! Get up, you'll be fine. You're okay … don't give up on me! I love you, and you know that! Please, get up." Panic edged Krebs' voice as he pleaded.

Finding strength from Krebs' voice, Burgdorf was able to open his eyes. He gazed at Krebs, and smiled. "I'm fine," he assured him, cringing as he wiped some blood off of his face. "We'll be fine. But … you saved my life." Burgdorf felt as if he was going to drown in the blue depths of Krebs' unwavering eyes. He had risked his own life to save Burgdorf's. _Wow ..._

"I'd give my life for you," Krebs said simply.

"And I." Burgdorf glanced at both of the guards, limp on the floor. "Are they … ?"

"Not that one," Krebs muttered as Burgdorf spotted the guard who had attacked him rise to his feet. Fury burned in the guard's eyes as he flung himself towards Krebs, but Burgdorf interfered, clamping his hands on the guard's neck and twisting it. The snap of bones echoed across the walls and bounced back towards the two, and the guard fell to the ground. Burgdorf swallowed as he turned the guard over. His eyes were deprived of life, blank and cloudy.

"No more workers for Stalin," Krebs spat. Burgdorf nodded in fervent agreement. There were no more guards in sight.

"Do you think Jodl and Skeletor are done?" Burgdorf asked.

"Probably," Krebs responded. "Let's go see." The two exchanged triumphant glances. Together, the two lovers hurried towards where Goebbels and Jodl were supposed to meet.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is this the place?" Jodl whispered as Goebbels switched on a light. The room instantly lit up, and an entire panel of controls stretched vastly in front of them. Buttons with flickering lights sparsely dotted the panel. The rest were switches, and a few were regular buttons. Several monitors rose on the wall, screening the front of the White House, news stations, the White House's garden, and military stations. Goebbels shook himself, clearing his head of all the sights. They had to focus on the job at hand.

"Look at this," Goebbels murmured, pointing to a section of the screens that focused solely on the weapons base. Most of them appeared to be nuclear weapons, consisting of missiles, uranium guns, rockets, bombs, and the ones that weren't nuclear weapons were tanks and guns. The sight took his breath away. How could one afford all these weapons?

"If only we had that!" Jodl exclaimed softly, awestruck. "We'd never lose any wars. I don't understand how they got all of this money."

"That's not our mission," Goebbels snapped. "We have to do what the Führer wants us to. Come on!" He trotted to the control panel, tilting his head to take in the screens. "Where should we start?"

"We need to figure out how to disable the nuclear weapons base," Jodl began. "Pressing all of these buttons won't do anything. As a military commander, some of them don't do anything, some of them affect other areas. Only certain ones will disable certain bases."

"Do you know where to start?" Goebbels asked, turning to Jodl. His polished head gleamed in the weak light, and a look of determination was plastered over his face as he studied the control panel thoroughly.

Finally, Jodl slumped back. "No idea," he answered apologetically, his shoulders drooping.

Goebbels snorted, although deep inside, he knew it wasn't Jodl's fault. "Then what do we do?"

Jodl suddenly perked up. "Hey, Skeletor, I've an idea."

Goebbels sighed. He hated that nickname, but he couldn't stop anyone from using it. _I do not look anything like Skeletor!_ "What?"

"We both have guns, right?" Jodl asked.

Goebbels glanced at the gun he had in his boot. "Want me to test it out on you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Jodl shook his head, huffing. "But we have guns, and there are guards. Guards that _know_ how this stuff works. So, you and I, with our guns …"

"… could corner them …" Goebbels continued, understanding what Jodl was planning.

"… and force them to show us how it works!" Jodl finished, excitement lighting his eyes.

Goebbels lifted his head. "Jodl, I hate to say this, I really do, but this plan is genius."

"I know," Jodl said smugly.

"Don't get _too_ cocky," Goebbels muttered, backing up. Suddenly, his back hit a button against a wall, and alarms started to wail while the room bathed in flickering red lights.

Jodl gasped. "What did you do?" he demanded, his eyes darting around, coated with fear.

"I don't know!" Goebbels gasped, trying to look for where the alarm was blaring.

"We're dead!" Jodl exclaimed. "You're dead, I'm dead, everybody's dead!"

"No!" Goebbels bellowed. The door to the security room suddenly slammed open, and a guard burst in, a frenzied look blazing in his eyes. Goebbels stepped back, feeling his chest heave. _Where are Fegelein and Burgdorf when I need them? They're the ones who do all the fighting!_

Jodl launched himself onto the guard, slicing his fingernails across his face and thumping his cheek with a heavy fist. Goebbels' brief moment of panic was swept away in the turmoil and adrenaline of the fight. Joining in with Jodl, Goebbels held onto the guard's scrawny shoulders. Jodl freed himself from the guard's grip and held him by his shirt collar, dragging him over to the control panel. Goebbels yanked his gun from his boot and pointed it towards the guard, whose eyes widened.

"Disable the weapons!" Jodl ordered as Goebbels cocked the gun. "Disable it, or we'll blow your brains out!"

The guard threw a look of burning rage at Goebbels. "No! We will do another 9/11! There's a plan …"

"Oh? _No?_ Really?" Goebbels shoved his gun closer to the guard's head. "Would you prefer I shoot this bullet through your head now, or in a few minutes?"

A low growl rumbled from the guard's throat. Jodl slammed his head against the panel. "Do it! Disable it! Or we _will_ kill you!"

The guard let out a snort, but he placed his fingers on the panel. Jodl hovered over him, his every eye movement focused on the buttons. When the guard's finger hovered over a round knob, Jodl shoved him. "Switch it!"

The guard's finger quickly switched the knob, and Goebbels let out the breath he had held in relief as the lights from several switches started to dull, and the screens turned black.

Goebbels and Jodl were both distracted for a moment by exchanging triumphant glances, in which the guard seized the moment to leap out of the chair and wrestle Goebbels to the ground. Goebbels grunted and reached for his gun as he hit the ground, the breath knocked from his body by the guard.

Goebbels grabbed his gun and cocked it. A bullet exploded from the gun straight into the guard's temple. Blood burst out, and the guard's eyes glazed over as he fell to the ground with a loud thud. Jodl walked over to the guard. "He's dead," he announced, checking his pulse and his heartbeat. Goebbels lifted himself to his feet.

Jodl and Goebbels exchanged uncertain glances, not sure whether to grieve or celebrate. "Let's block the door."

"With what?" Goebbels inquired.

"Um …" Jodl pondered for a moment. "The body, I think. And we should lock it. That should give us enough time. But first, we should shatter the screens."

Goebbels nodded and took his gun, climbing over the control panel and slamming his gun into several of the screens. The screen cracked and shattered as Goebbels continued to hit it with his gun, and Jodl was shooting at several of the buttons. The fire of the gunshots made Goebbels' ears ring, but he didn't stop smashing the screens until every one of them was shattered and unrecognizable.

"Should we be doing this?" Goebbels shouted over the roaring of the gunfire.

"Probably!" Jodl replied.

"But what about if we … when we save America? What will they do then?" Goebbels exclaimed.

"The new America won't have nuclear weapons!" Jodl yowled as he shot at more panels. "I think we're done here. Let's go."

Goebbels and Jodl rushed over to the entrance, with Jodl dragging the guard's dead body. Goebbels locked the door behind them and slammed it shut as the two skidded outside of the door.

"Let's find Krebs and Burgdorf and get out," Jodl suggested.

Goebbels glanced back at the ruined office. "We're done here."


	4. Chapter 4

Krebs' breathing was heavy and labored as he skidded to a halt near the main corridor of the White House, with Burgdorf right next to him. There was no sign of Goebbels or Jodl.

"What do you think is keeping them?" Burgdorf asked.

"Maybe they're not done," Krebs suggested. He looked at Burgdorf, who was glancing around with an expression that screamed paralyzing fear. "Come closer to me. We'll protect each other."

Happy to oblige, Burgdorf pressed against Krebs as the two waited for the others. A sudden loud booming shocked Krebs, and he wrapped his arms around Burgdorf, who had done the same thing in their combined terror.

Two shapes were outlined at the end of the hallway, and Krebs found himself holding on tighter to the one he loved. When the shapes became closer, Krebs could recognize Goebbels' skinny, lithe figure, and Jodl's shiny head.

Krebs and Burgdorf raced to meet them. "How did it go?" Burgdorf queried.

Jodl and Goebbels exchanged an uneasy glance. "Well ... someone may not be alive."

"Don't worry," Krebs told him. "We killed two."

Jodl sighed, folding his arms. "They were working for a criminal and they killed several thousands of people. If you ask me, it's good riddance."

"You're right," Burgdorf agreed. "But our next mission is to save Obama." He glanced at Krebs, determination glittering in his blue eyes.

"The prison!" Goebbels exclaimed. "I think I saw it - cells, right? It must be near where Jodl and I disabled the weapons base. We were able to do it," he added.

"And we barricaded the door," Jodl told them. "No one's getting in. We crashed the screens as well. I actually feel somewhat bad for the people who will repair them once we fix the country."

Krebs looked around. "We'll worry about that later. First, we've gotta find this prison. But before we do anything - what do you guys think Hitler is doing right now?"

Burgdorf frowned. "It's very unlikely that he, Günsche, and Fegelein can take on a career criminal by themselves, especially when he _will_ have guards. If they're clever, they wouldn't have attacked."

"Hitler might've," Jodl pointed out. "But Fegelein won't let him, I know that. We have tons of time."

"But none to spare," Goebbels countered. "Quick. We _need_ to find this prison. I think I can remember where it was. You guys with me?"

"Of course," Krebs replied.

"Then let's go!" With his last words flinging over his shoulder and lingering in the air, Goebbels rushed towards the end of the hallway. Exchanging determined glances, Krebs and Burgdorf followed him, with Jodl keeping watch from the end of their group.

Goebbels led the group to a larger corridor which curved into a broad hallway. The atmosphere was cool and unwelcoming. Krebs examined the hallway, holding the others back. He stood still, not daring to breathe, trying to make out any sounds. But there was nothing. He nodded, and the rest of the group ran forward. Burgdorf turned on a light switch, and the entire hallway went up into a blaze of golden lights. The end of the hallway seemed to be lit brighter, and Krebs could make out several cells climbing from the bottom of the hall to the top, making a cell door.

"That must be the prison!" Krebs exclaimed softly.

"I see something," Burgdorf murmured. Krebs peered closer. Burgdorf was definitely right - not that he doubted him. There was a figure, painted with shadows, clutching over and staring at the ground. Krebs couldn't tell if it was a human or a play of lights. The light didn't hit the prison walls. Krebs grunted, realizing that he couldn't see who it was.

"Can you?" Jodl asked, peering closer, narrowing his eyes. "I can't."

"Should we move closer?" Krebs inquired, tilting his head.

Each one of them looked at Goebbels, as he was the highest ranking person among them. Goebbels looked around, furrowing his eyebrows. "Yes, but let's all be on our watch."

Krebs carefully stalked forward, making sure Burgdorf was behind him. Although Burgdorf was stronger than he was, Krebs did like to keep a close eye on him, not wanting his love to be hurt in any way. Krebs instantly rushed forward to the prison cell. He was aware of Burgdorf's raised call of his name, and felt his steps following him. Krebs peered through the cell walls, and drew his breath as he realized who it was.

His mind flickered back to all of the pictures he had seen. Tall, African American, somewhat bald … Krebs knew that he was looking at President Obama, but this was not what he imagined the President would look like. Shock flew through his body, and he struggled to swallow the gasp that was crawling up in his throat. President Obama looked completely defeated, as dried tears were still bright on his cheeks, and the light of hope was gone from his eyes. Obama looked up, and as he saw Krebs' Wehrmacht uniform, he jumped back against the prison wall. "Stay away!" he snapped, tensing his shoulders.

"Careful," Krebs assured the President softly. He felt Burgdorf press against him. "We're not here to hurt you. I'm General Krebs, and this is General Burgdorf." He nodded to Goebbels and Jodl, who walked up behind him. "That is Dr. Goebbels, and General Jodl. I know you probably think you know who we are, but trust me, we're different than who you heard of. We're here to rescue you."

There was a long pause. Obama shakily rose to his legs, his eyes darting warily from general to general. He didn't speak, but there was complete and utter fear blazing in his eyes. "Can I trust you?" he suddenly burst out.

"We risked our lives to come here and save you," Burgdorf hissed, his short temper getting the most of him. "Now you can't trust us? Do you think we almost got ourselves killed for fun? Do you really think I almost got my neck snapped to come here and snap your own?"

Krebs rested his hand on Burgdorf's shoulder, trying to calm him. "Easy," he murmured. He felt Burgdorf's tension die as he raised an eyebrow at him. He turned to Obama. "Yes, you can trust us. Burgdorf's right, we did risk our lives to come and rescue you."

Obama frowned. "How do you think you can get through these walls? I've tried. There's no way out. I can't even pick the lock."

"You might be not be able to," Goebbels agreed, "but we could." He lifted his gun from his boot. Obama stepped back, pressing his back against the wall as fear made his eyes widen.

"For the last time, we're not going to shoot you!" Burgdorf growled brusquely. "We're going to shoot through the cell walls. Get out of the way. We didn't risk our lives just to shoot you. We didn't let our leader go stumbling into trouble, and I sure as hell didn't let Krebs in here, and I'm confident Skeletor didn't almost kill himself for you, and Jodl wouldn't risk his shiny head if it wasn't for a good cause."

Krebs blinked warmly at Burgdorf, and stepped back, letting Goebbels do his job. Goebbels lifted his gun towards the cell wall, making sure Obama was as clear from his target as possible. Krebs covered his ears as the gunfire crackled throughout the air and slammed straight through the cell walls. As the gunfire stopped, Krebs looked up to see that the bullets had opened a large hole in the cell wall..

A call rang through the hallway, making Krebs stiffen. "Who's there?"

"Get him out!" Jodl snapped at Burgdorf, who grabbed onto the President's arm and dragged him away from the cell. Goebbels led the race away from the prison cell, and the group skidded away from two guards who had met up with them in the hallway. Their eyes blazed with smoldering rage. The group slipped to a halt, staring at the guards with round eyes.

"Oh no!" Burgdorf gasped.

"We've got guns for a reason!" Jodl shouted. He cocked his gun towards the guard, who felt their pockets, and when they realized they didn't have any guns, their eyes widened.

"You idiot!" hissed one of the guards. "Where did you put your gun?"

"I didn't-" The guard's reply was cut short by a paralyzing grunt as a bullet from Jodl's gun rammed straight into his chest. The guard fell to the floor, instantly dead. Jodl pressed the trigger of his gun again, aiming for the other guard, but no other bullets escaped.

"It's empty, you bald ape!" Goebbels yelled at Jodl. "And so is mine!" The air was knocked from Jodl's chest as the guard slammed straight into him. Goebbels leaped onto the guard and bowled him over, but he was thrown to the ground by a second guard that had flown over to them. Krebs and Burgdorf watched in shock as the scene rolled in front of them. There was no way Jodl and Goebbels could win against two heavy, muscular guards with anger in their hearts and bloodlust in their eyes.

"Do you think we won't repeat another 9/11? Think again!" hissed a guard.

The two generals stood, shocked. Burgdorf stared at the duel, dazed. Krebs turned to him, clearing his mind. "Burgdorf!" he exclaimed. "We need to help!"

Burgdorf suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, and nodded. He leaped into the fray and instantly swept away a larger guard with a hand. When the guard spun, Burgdorf leaped onto him and grabbed his neck. The splintering crack of bones echoed through the hallway, and Krebs turned onto the other guard, hissing. He had been weakened by the combined strength of Goebbels and Jodl. Krebs just had to finish him off. Krebs held his neck to the ground, while the guard flailed underneath him. Showing no remorse for someone who had trained at a camp to kill others, and who had helped take over America with plans to kill innocent people, he pressed down, hearing the snap of bones. Krebs kicked the body fiercely, and turned to Goebbels and Jodl, who had scrambled up. Jodl was panting as he swiped some blood off of his glaring head, and Goebbels was kneading his sunken eyes. Burgdorf had already gotten up as well, shaking himself. His slick, blond hair was ruffled, and Krebs padded over to him, rubbing him reassuringly.

"He said something about another 9/11. The guard we attacked prior said the same thing," Goebbels whispered after he had regained his composure.

Krebs nodded slowly. "So did the ones we attacked."

Obama got to his feet slowly. He dragged himself across the hallway and gazed outside the window. His mouth gaped.

"Yeah," Burgdorf commented, walking over to him. "It's horrible, isn't it?" His piercing eyes were fixated on the President as he examined the ravaged landscape that unfolded before him.

"I didn't want to believe you." The President was still. "But now that I see it …"

"That's why we're here!" Krebs padded up to him, tensing his broad shoulders. Determination flew through every vein in his body, and in that very moment, he knew what he was doing. "We're here to help. We all are, I promise you that."

"I know," the President replied.

"Time is running out," Jodl urged Krebs, his blue eyes dark. "We need to go. Fegelein can't handle this on his own."

"Yes, he can," Goebbels argued. "He's Fegelein."

Jodl paused, and nodded. "Okay, you're right. But Günsche? And Hitler?"

Goebbels shrugged. "How should I know?" He glanced around the hallway, frowning. Sympathy clouded his eyes as he let out a sigh. "There must be so much suffering here …"

"I think you of all people should understand the definition of suffering," Burgdorf scoffed.

"That's the other Goebbels, and you know it!" Goebbels retorted.

Suddenly, the President swung his head around and fixed his smoldering glare on Krebs. "You just killed a man," he growled.

Burgdorf squared his wide shoulders and stepped forward, ready to jump to Krebs' defense. A low growl came from his throat. Krebs glanced at him. "Easy," he warned Burgdorf, placing his hand on his shoulder in order to calm him. He faced the President. "Yes, I did. But you saw why, didn't you?"

The President nodded slowly. "I see. And I understand. Do you ... do you have a plan for afterwards?"

"Yes," Krebs responded. He glanced at Burgdorf, who was watching the President with a thoughtful look. "We do, don't we?"

Burgdorf snapped out of another daze. He dipped his head, gazing lovingly at Krebs. "And our plan starts with Fegelein."


	5. Chapter 5

Hitler's feet made no noise as he carefully placed them on the ground. He cast rapid glances behind him, feeling his heart rate accelerate in his chest. Günsche and Fegelein were behind him, keeping up with his pace easily. Hitler felt a low growl in his throat.

"What's wrong?" Günsche asked, noticing his sound.

"I'm just worried about the bunker," Hitler confessed, not wanting to hide what he thought, since it was clear that he was worried. "Göring will probably eat all of my food, and who knows what Speer and Linge would be up to? Speer will probably have a complete overhaul of the bunker, and Linge would obviously take over my stuff because he thinks being my second adjutant makes him the second best person in the bunker, and Himmler will commit antics in Fegelein's place."

"Mohnke and Weidling will keep an eye on things," Günsche fervently reassured him. Hitler grunted in weak agreement.

Hitler skidded to a halt in front of what should be the Oval Office, due to his calculations. He motioned to Günsche and Fegelein. "I'm going to take a look inside."

Fegelein didn't say anything, while Günsche frowned. "Be careful."

"Dumb giant," Hitler muttered. "Of course I'll be careful." With his heart thumping in his chest violently, Hitler peered inside the Oval Office. The door was almost closed, but not completely, allowing Hitler to look through a strip of the office. Taking a deep breath, he examined what was inside.

The office was huge - from what he was able to see. Three large south facing windows yawned over the president's desk. A fireplace was at the north of the office, but Hitler could not hear any crackling of flames. The dark carpet gleamed weakly in the late night light. Two couches sat vertical to each other. But then what caught his eye next is what made him stiffen. There he was. Stalin. Stalin was seated at the president's desk in the center of the office. A mass murderer sat there. A person who was responsible for a new war, for devious plans, and he now held more power than he had before. Hitler's heart skipped a beat. Could he really defeat him? He glanced around. Two guards stood before him, but Hitler could make out seven more spanning the room.

Hitler slunk backwards. He sighed. "Maybe my plan won't work after all."

"Nonsense," Fegelein argued. "We just need backup."

The Führer of Germany glared at him. "And where do you think we'll get it, you accursed Fegelarse?"

Fegelein stepped backwards. "From the bunker. From our friends." As the words left his mouth, Hitler gaped as he saw Krebs, Burgdorf, Jodl, and Goebbels rush towards them. He had never been more happier to see his idiot minions before in his life, despite his conflicted feelings about them. Fegelein was right about them being friends. All of them - every single one of them - were attached to each other in their circle in deep friendship, even though Hitler liked to say he hated them and that they hated each other. But that wasn't true. Hitler cherished the warmth they all shared for each other.

"You're all okay!" Hitler exclaimed softly.

"Of course, my Führer," Goebbels said, following his low voice. "We had a few ... ahem, issues, but we were able to rescue Obama."

Behind the four, who parted to make room for him, Obama walked forward. Hitler stared at him in shock. The President looked exhausted and beaten. His age showed in every movement, and the bags under his eyes seemed larger than his hope for the future, but he did not lose his dignity. Obama shook Hitler's hand and smiled. "Hello," Obama greeted him. "I have heard …" He hesitated. "... stories."

Hitler stared at him. This was Obama. The most powerful man in America, and he was meeting him.

"Believe them if you wish," Hitler offered cordially, struggling to keep his cool. "But they are not true. At least, that was the other Hitler. He deserved to lose the war. The other Hitler was a despicable human being. The atrocious crimes he committed were absolutely horrible, and he deserved what happened to him. I am the real Hitler, Obama. I'm here to help you. I am not like that other Hitler."

"Thank you." Obama's voice shook. "Do you have a plan?"

Hitler glanced uneasily at Fegelein. Fegelein met his gaze steadily, and turned to Obama. "First, let us introduce ourselves. As you can see, that is Adolf Hitler, our Führer. He has bad plans, he can't find Berlin on a map, and he never stops ranting. I'm Hermann Fegelein. I'm the antics master, and I'm invincible. That's Otto Günsche, he's a stupid giant who loves informing people. Um, that's Alfred Jodl - he's a bald, objecting ape, his head shines, you should see it. That's Joseph Goebbels, or Skeletor, our resident Yes-Man. He looks scary and he's a kiss ass. That's Hans Krebs. He's a map pervert and loves fish. And that's Wilhelm Burgdorf, an easily pissed off fast talking boozer, who's Krebs' lover. All of us together will help you. We work as one. Each one of us are best friends with each other. We're family. We're brothers. We are one. We're together."

Jodl glanced warmly at Fegelein, while Günsche smiled. Goebbels dipped his head, watching as Krebs and Burgdorf hugged each other. Hitler reflected back on his thoughts. _We all are family._

Obama waved at Günsche, who was staring at him with a serious expression. There was no response from him. Obama raised an eyebrow, and then nodded. "What are we going to do?"

"Well, you'll be hiding," Fegelein told him. "Here. Just ... hide behind that wall. We'll take care of the rest. Do you trust me?" he added, looking at the bunker mates.

Everyone hesitated. Fegelein glared at them. The nods came, but they were slow. "We all trust each other … sorta," Jodl added. "Even … the antics master, I guess."

Fegelein scoffed. Obama blinked slowly. "Okay," he conceded. "What are you all going to do?"

Goebbels glanced at Burgdorf. "You could sing," he suggested.

"Hey!" Burgdorf snapped. "There was nothing wrong with my _Greatest in the Reich_ song. Fegelein produced it. I don't see you having a song produced by him, do you? I've heard you sing, and let me tell you, not even a deaf person would want that to be produced!"

"I'm not talking about that song," Goebbels retorted. "I'm talking about _Positive Energy._ "

"Give him a break," Jodl told Goebbels. "I rather liked _Ganz Ganz Ganz._ "

Goebbels snorted. "That was probably all auto tune."

"No, it wasn't," Burgdorf snarled. "Anyways, we're not here to discuss me as a musician, despite the fact that I'm great."

"Maybe you could scare them with your face, Skeletor," Günsche suggested.

Goebbels spun around to glare at Günsche. "You have a better idea? You'd inform them we're coming!"

Krebs glanced at Jodl. "You can object," he suggested.

"I object to _that!_ " Jodl cried. Krebs rolled his eyes.

Günsche scratched the back of his head, while Hitler was silent. He shook himself. "Let's get on with this. Fegelein, you have a plan?" he asked Fegelein.

"Yes. Burst in and attack," Fegelein responded.

Jodl scoffed in disbelief. "Günsche could've thought of that!"

"But it would work!" Fegelein argued. "I don't need your objections, baldy. Hitler, you have the biggest quarrel. Your hate will fuel you. You must battle Stalin one on one."

"I can do that," Hitler growled. "I'd do anything to get my hands on him."

"Good," Fegelein said. "You'll need that sort of determination. The rest of you - there are guards. Use all of the anger built up in you, all of the justice you want to bring, all of the faith, willpower, and perseverance you have, and _use it._ Do not throw any of it away. And defend your bunker mates with your life. You are there to protect them. They are your _friends._ Your best friends. Your family. We're all brothers to one another. You all know that." Murmurs of agreement echoed from the friends as Fegelein went on. "You are fighting for each other and the people around you. Fight together, but try and get as many people as you can. It doesn't matter if you need to kill them. These guards, and Stalin himself, are cold blooded criminals. Their deaths will be welcomed. They have killed thousands and thousands." His aquamarine gaze raked over the bunker occupations. "Are you ready?"

Slow nods wisped among the officers. Here they were. Hitler's generals. His friends. The ones that were loyal to him, no matter how idiotic he could be. Fegelein dipped his head and lashed out his arm in a military act of loyalty. "Good luck." He glanced at Hitler. "The door is weak. Kick it."

"How do you know?" Hitler queried. It would be just like Fegelein, a menace, to pull _another_ antic on Hitler.

"I'm Fegelein. Of course I know."

"Fine. I'll do it," Hitler bayed. He took his position in front of the bunker officers. Before he risked his life, he turned back to look at them. Jodl, who was most likely the most annoying person in the bunker next to Fegelein, and his chief objector, who was notable for his bald head and never ending objections, was standing at the end of the line. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Goebbels, or Skeletor, his most trusted advisor and popular for his kiss-ass ways, known for his frightening face, was next to him, flexing his metal leg. Krebs, the map pervert with a fish fetish stood next to him, his broad shoulders tense. His fast-talking, short tempered, heavy booze hound lover was next to him, narrowing his eyes. Günsche, the stupid giant who never stopped informing Hitler of things, whether they were useless, idiotic, or somewhat important, had straightened up. Finally, Fegelein was at the end of the line. Fegelein was invincible - he could never be killed - _ever,_ and he never stopped pulling antics on Hitler. But for some reason, he once again couldn't imagine this important mission with anyone else. He smirked as he saw nobility and determination glittering in everyone's eyes.

Hitler barged the door with his leg, breaking in. He raced into the room, relishing as a wave of surprise flew across Stalin's face as he spun around in his chair. He was a tall, Russian man with a thick mustache and powerful shoulders. He met the dictator's eyes with an unwavering, blazing gaze.

"Your time is over!" Hitler spat. Power and adrenaline flew through his body. This was what he was meant to do. He was here to save America. He met Stalin's eyes, who were widened. _I will kill you and save the lives of my friends and this country_.

"Gross!" Stalin exclaimed. "Jews!"

"Jews?" Jodl echoed. "No!"

"Germans!" a guard spat.

Hitler was suddenly aware about how him and the rest of his team must look. Krebs, Burgdorf, Goebbels, and Jodl were all bloody and bruised. Hitler had bags under his eyes from stress, and his clothes were ripped from countless mazes through the White House. Günsche's head was bruised as well. They hardly looked like the powerful Nazi Party Hitler had imagined. But they were. "We're the Third Reich," Hitler hissed. "We will stop you, you bloody menace."

Stalin narrowed his eyes. "I'd like to see you try." His voice was silky, but the thread thinly veiled behind it was obvious enough to cool Hitler's blood.

Every interview Hitler had conducted, every rant about this very person he had produced, and every single moment he had thought up had led up to this. Hitler tensed his muscles and let out a bellow. "Attack!"

In one moment, the entire room burst into battle. Hitler launched himself over the desk and landed on Stalin. Around him, he could hear countless shrieks and grunting. _Did nobody think to bring a gun?_ It had been a long time since he had fought in war. Was Krebs screaming in pain, or was that a cry of triumph? Was Goebbels' body thumping to the floor, or was it a guard? His thoughts had rolled by in a matter of seconds, but it felt like years. Hitler gasped in pain as Stalin wrestled him on the ground.

Stalin's greater weight was holding Hitler down to the point that he couldn't breathe. Finding strength in desperation, Hitler kicked Stalin off of him, using all of the power he could have imagined in his legs. Hitler leaped onto his feet. Stalin was on the floor, looking stunned.

"You cannot withstand the storm," Stalin hissed, jumping to his feet.

Hitler lashed his hand out and whacked him on the cheek. "I am the storm," he snarled. With his battle training swiftly coming to him, he prayed on his fragile body not to let him down, and he punched Stalin's face. Stalin grabbed Hitler's throat, but Hitler was faster. Hitler loosened Stalin's grip by quickly shaking himself and spun around, kicking Stalin in the stomach. Stalin fell to the floor once more.

Taking advantage of his brief distraction, Hitler scanned the battle. Shrieks and screams were bouncing of the walls. The office was a mess. Blood stained the couches and one of them was thrown off balance. Burgdorf was herding off guard by guard, with Krebs close to his side. Each were protecting the other. Günsche and Fegelein were fighting together as well, with Günsche finding it much easier to throw off his attackers due to his size. Unfortunately, Jodl was on his own, cornered by two guards, but Hitler realized that Jodl could take care of it. Jodl dropped to his knees and grabbed one of the guard's legs, flinging him across the room while he thrust the other one far away from him. The guard met Goebbels, who instantly thumped him on his cheek.

Hitler turned back to Stalin, who had recovered from his fall. The two dictators stared each other in the eyes, their rage, fury, and hatred smoldering until it felt as if it would melt everything around them. Hitler's fists quickly hit Stalin's face. Stalin shrieked in pain and grabbed onto Hitler's throat, pressing down hard. Hitler gasped as Stalin dragged him on the floor and held him up by his stomach, slapping his face. Pain struck through Hitler like a bolt of lightning until blood clouded his senses.

Summoning up some strength, Hitler rose up and hit the back of Stalin's neck with his elbows. Stalin spun around and lashed his fist out, punching Hitler's throat. Oxygen was cut off from Hitler as he struggled to get closer to Stalin. Stalin grabbed Hitler's neck with his hands and shoved him to the ground.

Hitler fell, winded. His chest was heaving with the effort of the fight as he painfully realized that there was a chance he could lose. As he spotted Stalin gaining on him, Hitler raised his legs and kicked him in his stomach. Stalin grunted with pain and collapsed. Hitler scrambled up onto his feet and jabbed his legs against Stalin's head. He stared down at the dictator's unmoving body, breathing heavily. A call rang from the battle.

"Fegelein is gone!" It was Günsche. His voice was high and panic stricken. Hitler's head rose.

"What?" He glanced around. Günsche was right. There was no sign of Fegelein anywhere. "No." A lump grew in Hitler's throat and every muscle in his body tensed. Outrage heated his entire body as he hunched over, unable to see clearly. His vision was blurring. Wrath blazed through him. "No! Fegelein cannot have betrayed us! That Fegelarse … that menace! I should've never trusted him! Never! This was nothing. This was just another of his antics crap! FEGELEIN! FEGELEIN! FEGELEIN!" _He betrayed us! He betrayed me!_ But there was something inside of him … something that told him Fegelein didn't betray him.

He was so busy struggling with his feelings that he didn't notice Stalin tumbling him to the ground until it was too late. Weight rose on his shoulders and teeth met in his arms. Hitler squealed as skin ripped and blood gushed out of the new open wound. He rammed into him with all his strength, feeling rage grow into power, and slammed against his shoulder, weakening him for a moment. Hitler rose up to meet his strikes, punching the side of his cheeks and swinging his arm to strike him in his collarbone. The desertion of Fegelein had only added to his growing anger. Hitler sank his unusually sharp fingernails in Stalin's skin and raked them down, feeling blood trickle on his fingers. There was a grunt of pain from him, and Hitler swung his fist against his jaw. Stalin jabbed his fists at Hitler's stomach, but Hitler realized that the fight was getting too much for him. This was bin Laden, someone who had never been trained to fight, but had people do his dirty work for him. The realization gave him strength. Hitler spun around and kicked his chin. Stalin shrieked, and Hitler grabbed his throat with his hands.

Hitler's head perked up. There was a revving of an engine. It sounded something like a plane. He looked up through the window, making sure his grip on Stalin didn't falter. Through the window, he realized, there _was_ a plane. Horror and shock flared up inside of him as his eyes widened. _No!_ It was heading straight for them. Hitler turned around, snapping orders. "Get out of the way! Disable the guards and leave them in the desk's view!"

There were no questions. Burgdorf herded a final guard off of him and with miraculous strength, threw him over towards the desk. He grabbed Krebs' hand and dragged him towards the corner of the office. Goebbels rushed after them, while Günsche, who had an upper hand in the entire fight due to his six foot six structure, kicked off more of the guards into the path. Hitler dragged Stalin with him towards the end of the pathway. He kicked him once more, disabling the enemy, and rushed away to join Jodl and Goebbels. The Nazis were all in a corner. Hitler and Goebbels were pressed against the wall, while Krebs and Burgdorf both held each other.

The room was plummeted with a deafening crash as the Luftwaffe plane slammed into the building. Hitler heard gasps from his officers who watched the scene in horror, and he shared their terror. Parts of the building splintered away and fell into oblivion. Hitler's eyes stretched wide as the plane came into closer view. _Could it be_? As the plane came even closer, he couldn't believe what he saw. Fegelein was piloting the plane. He hadn't betrayed them! Hitler's heart leaped with joy. The antics' master's eyes were narrowed in concentration as he flew the plane towards the guards. The plane crashed into them, flinging the bodies away as the plane made its way for the last body - Stalin. Fegelein's plane rammed into Stalin's body, and due to the sheer, blunt impact, it flew away to Hitler's feet. Hitler gasped.

Fegelein quickly jumped out of the plane. "Is he dead?" he demanded.

Goebbels rushed straight towards Fegelein and hugged him. Fegelein's eyes widened, but he eased into the hug. "I knew you wouldn't abandon us!" he exclaimed. "I just knew it!" _I knew it, too._ His voice was a wave of relief for his friend. But suddenly, Goebbels stepped back. "How did you survive that crash?"

"I'm Fegelein," he assured Goebbels. "I can survive anything. You know that, Skeletor."

Hitler stepped forward to Fegelein. "You came," he rasped.

"Did you really think I wouldn't?" Fegelein asked.

Hitler met his gaze slowly. "No, my friend. I always knew you would come."

Fegelein's eyes raked back to Stalin. "Hitler! He's alive!" Fegelein raced towards him. "Kill him. You are the one who brought us on this mission. Now you need to finish it."

Hitler, who had still been bathed with feelings of solace, nodded. He loomed over Stalin. His spine was broken and his eyes were cloudy as he gaped in pain. Blood was bubbling at his mouth. Hitler could not feel any sympathy. "Your reign of terror is over," Hitler spat. He grabbed Stalin's throat with his hands, and pressed down with all of his might before twisting it. There was a blood curling crack of bones, and Stalin's body fell to the floor with a thump. Hitler stepped over him. He was dead. His eyes glared into nothingness, and he was no longer breathing.

 _Stalin is dead._ The ringleader of the 9/11 plots, the one who had brought so much destruction and death to America in a matter of a week, was gone. There would be no more suffering or torture now.

Hitler stiffened as he felt heavy breathing over his shoulder. He turned around to face Obama, who was joining them. Obama met his eyes. "You did it," he whispered. "You killed him, and saved America."

"No." Hitler shook his head. "I didn't do it." He nodded to Fegelein. "Fegelein did."

Fegelein glanced at Hitler. "We all did." His gaze raked over his bunkermates. "We all did it together."

"I never once doubted you," Günsche murmured.

"None of us did," Hitler added.


	6. Chapter 6

The bells of celebration clanked together as the sound rang through the halls of the Capitol Building. Hitler was on the stage alongside his bunkermates. In front of them, thousands and thousands of people were seated in chairs that yawned for miles across the chancellery. Everyone was gathered in a festival of celebration for America's new heros, and Obama was there to honor them. Pride swelled up inside of him as Obama spoke on the podium.

"We must thank Adolf Hitler, for his bravery in leading his soldiers, Hermann Fegelein, Hans Krebs, Wilhelm Burgdorf, Alfred Jodl, Joseph Goebbels, and Otto Günsche into killing Stalin and saving our country. Without them, I do not know if it was possible to restore America to the way it was. Hitler, will you step up?"

Hitler stepped up to the podium, while Obama inched away, allowing him more space to speak. Hitler fiddled with the microphone before he started to talk. "Citizens of America, I may be German, but today I could not feel more like an American. My friends and I have liberated your country because we knew it was the right thing to do. But I cannot be the one to take the credit. Without them, it would not have been possible for me to do anything. I must give thanks to Fegelein. He allowed me to kill Stalin, and helped us win the battle, but I thank all of our bunkermates equally as well. We could not have won without their determination."

He stepped back towards his friends. Obama went forward to them, holding several awards. He draped the first one over Hitler's neck. Hitler examined the gold pendant he was given. " _War Hero: Thank you for saving America."_

Obama nodded to him. "Thank you." He went on to give Fegelein his badge, and the other bunkermates, naming them specifically and thanking them as well. Hitler was aware of Fegelein's side glance.

"I won't stop committing antics on you," Fegelein told him.

"And I won't stop trying to kill you, you accursed Fegelarse," Hitler responded.

"I won't be killed," Fegelein chuckled.

Hitler nodded at him. "You know … you're a good friend, Fegelein. I know I try to kill you, but …"

"But loyalty counts the most," Fegelein told him. "Loyalty is what makes a friend. And you know I would never abandon my friends."

Hitler nodded to him. Maybe he wouldn't succeed in killing the one he hated, but he would still try. _God, I hate that Fegelarse._ But in a way, he thought of him as one of his best friends as well - a brother, just like everyone else in the entourage thought of each other as family. In that moment, Hitler's pride for his friends could not have been stronger. Fegelein was watching the crowd and occasionally sneaking glances at the bunkermates, as if imagining new pranks to pull on them. Jodl was touching his shiny head, while Goebbels grinned and took in the thundering applause and cheering. Günsche straightened up while Krebs and Burgdorf hugged each other tightly. Hitler let out a small sigh.

"Come, my friends," he called. His friends pricked their ears and padded over to him. Hitler caught them all in a group hug - something he rarely did. "I think we've learned things today," he murmured as he held his friends tightly.

"We did," Goebbels agreed. "Friendship always rules in the end."

Hitler smiled at his friends, letting out a content sigh.

 _We are here to save one another. I hate to admit it, but I love them. They're my family. They're idiots, but they're my idiots. I'd never trade them, or get rid of them. I don't know what I'd do without them. They are my friends. I love them._


	7. Author's Note

So you got through that, and I applaud you. I literally had no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this, but I'm pretty sure I was running on absolutely no sleep. Also, this was back in June.

Now I'm uncertain whether to publish any other bullshit I've wrote. Keep in mind that all my other stuff is mostly angst and stuff, and I may be an evil person who turned a certain Wehrmacht general in having a terrible childhood and suffering from depression who is helped by a certain other gay person. Maybe. Possibly. Not sure if I should publish that because it's some pretty heavy stuff, and I'm not even lying at all.

So yeah. Tell me what I should do. Oh, and your thoughts on this.


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